One To Darkness
by Sar-kaz-m
Summary: AU! The Witch was never released. Az becomes Queen, DG becomes a High Priestess. But then, fanatics make threats against her, and a former Tin Man is chosen to become her protector and companion.
1. Chapter 1

_The majestic queen of the O.Z.  
had two lovely daughters she.  
One to darkness, she be drawn,  
and one to light, she be shown.  
Double eclipse, it is foreseen,  
Light meets dark in the stillness between,  
but only one and one alone  
shall hold the emerald and take the throne_

Prologue:

"Did you hear that?" the younger girl asked the elder.

"Your adventures have a way of getting me into trouble," said Princess Azkadelia to her little sister, who ignored her lament to clamber into the cave. With a sigh, Azkadelia followed. She soon found an old lantern to light, so the girls could explore.

When Azkadelia translated the ancient pictograms they found on the walls, her sister the Princess Dorothigale exclaimed, "Cool! Do you think this is an old temple?"

"No," Azkadelia said, shivering. "This is something else. Let's go get Mother."

But her sister's attention was drawn to the rear of the cave. "Can't you hear that?"

They examined the back wall. Azkadelia's lantern illuminated the strange carved face. She didn't notice immediately as her sister reached out to the face, placing her hand in the carved mouth. Then DG, as she was called, shrieked as the strange face seemed to draw out her magic. "Az!" she wailed.

"MOTHER!" screamed Azkadelia with both voice and magic, trying to pull her sister away.

When the rock face exploded outwards, Azkadelia gripped DG's hand, and would not let her climb through. She checked her sister for injuries, ignoring DG's protestations that she heard someone crying in need. Azkadelia heard nothing.

Soon after, their Mother, Queen of the Outer Zone, the most powerful Witch alive, climbed into the cave, calling for her girls.

"We're here, Mother!" Azkadelia called, relieved to have an adult nearby at last.

DG was almost in tears, frantically pleading to be allowed to go "help the little girl" but Azkadelia held her tight. The queen surveyed the cave ruefully.

"So, there is truth to the prophecy," The queen muttered, grim. "Hold fast to her, Azkadelia. Don't let her cross the threshold." The Queen raised her hands, light pouring from them to fill and illuminate the cave revealed beyond the face.

Azkadelia gasped to see the figure of a young girl, but almost instantly, that figure was replaced with that of an ancient and hideous crone. The crone's face seemed oddly shaped, her eyes too wide and round, her teeth sharpened when she bared them at Mother in a snarl. DG yelped, her struggles to go to the crone replaced by shivers of fear.

"Hiss and snarl all you like," said the Queen to the crone. "You cannot leave without a carrier."

"Give me the little one!" snarled the crone, her eyes locked on DG. "She is the dark!"

.

"That may be," answered the queen calmly, "but we of the Zone have learned that Dark does not always mean Evil." She glanced over her shoulder at her daughters. "Girls, remember how your tutor taught you to share your magic? Now, I want you to share with each other, and then share with me."

The princesses clung to one another, the sparkling light of their combined magic shimmering in the darkness of the cave. That light grew when their mother joined them, and the magic directed by the queen flowed into the crone's prison.

The evil crone screeched and wailed. The day she had waited and longed for, that she meant as her moment of triumph and escape, was only her day of final judgment and execution. The light of the Queen of the Outer Zone, supported by her daughters both Light and Dark, pierced the crone, and she dissolved into black miasma, sinking into the earth.

Tears ran down DG's face as she looked up at her mother. "I'm sorry, momma," she whimpered.

The queen embraced her youngest. "It's alright, my angel. You're still learning." She opened one arm to draw Azkadelia into the hug. "And you, my darling jewel. You were so clever and brave. You were smart to keep DG out of there."

"Would the wicked witch have taken her?" Azkadelia asked, shaken by the near loss of her sister.

The queen nodded solemnly. "She would have, and that would have been very dangerous. Remember girls, you are stronger together than you are apart. There can be no Light without Dark, and no Dark without Light. Together, you are everything. Can you remember that?"

Both girls nodded, promising their mother.

From that day forward, DG had a separate magic tutor from Azkadelia. An older woman, a priestess, round faced and white haired, was brought from Central City. The girls soon learned that though the effects of their magic was often very similar, they each had their own special ways of making things happen. DG's new tutor taught her different ways of doing things from the way Toto did, and DG found that many of the things she had struggled with under Toto became easier when done differently. The priestess, Maat, taught DG a different way of looking at things than the way her mother, or Azkadelia, or even Tutor, did. Under the light of the moon and the stars, DG's magic flourished.

Both princesses grew up beautiful. Azkadelia became tall and willowy, with a sunny smile and shining eyes. DG wasn't as tall as Az, but she was curvaceous and mischievous, with an impish smirk and constant humor lurking in her deep blue eyes. The queen, proud of both her girls, let them find their own ways of living, never trying to control or direct them.

When Az was twenty-one and DG sixteen, the queen took them to Central City. There, in a room hidden deep in the Royal Compound, she drew forth a locked case of ancient black wood. The only other people in the room were their father, and two others.

The High Priest of the Twins, spiritual leader of the Light, and the High Priestess of Cybele, leader of the Dark, both bowed deeply when the Queen opened the box with a key of silver and gold. Inside the box, on a bed of velvet, lay an Emerald of surpassing value and clarity.

The sisters exchanged glances. "It's going to be you, Az," stated DG calmly.

"You don't know that," Az answered nervously.

DG glanced at the Priestess, and said, "Yes, I kind of do." She boldly stepped up. "May I, Mother?"

The queen smiled at her younger daughter's determination. "We need to know. Go ahead, angel."

DG gave her mother a cheeky grin and lifted the Emerald out of its case. She held it in her bare palm, and though the magnificent gem sparkled in the candlelight of the room, it remained only a beautiful jewel. A sigh swept around the room.

"See?" said DG cheerfully, and then in a sudden movement she dropped the gem into Azkadelia's hand. Immediately, the Emerald flared to life, sending beams of green light shooting around the room, then settling to emit a brilliant green glow, pulsating slightly with the beat of Azkadelia's heart.

"One _and one alone, shall hold the emerald and take the throne_," DG quoted, her voice full of satisfaction.

"DG?" Az's voice was strained. Her eyes showed her emotional conflict. She never wanted to overshadow her sister, despite being older, despite being a witch of Light. So many distrusted the Dark, but the sisters had been raised to respect and understand both.

"You're the heir, Az. You'll be Queen after Mother," DG said happily.

"She's right, my darling. Even were you not rightful heir by birth, you would be Queen." The Queen hugged her eldest. Their father wrapped one arm about Azkadelia and the other around DG, pulling the family in to a group embrace.

"We have witnessed," the Priest said solemnly. "None will contest our sworn word."

"Good," said DG. She turned to Priestess, "How soon can I take vows?"

"What?" gasped her mother.

The sixteen year old rolled her eyes. "Mother. You know me. I don't want your sort of power. I want mysteries. I want magic."

"And magic you shall have," said Maat, High Priestess of the Dark. "Since you were a girl, you have had the ability to grasp and contain the Dark. I will teach you, and you will follow me as High Priestess."

"What of the Eclipse?" asked Azkadelia.

"We'll worry about that when it gets here," dismissed DG.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

1

Officer Wyatt Cain didn't question their destination. After two months of special training, he was finally going to begin his new assignment, a new chapter in his life. He followed Commandant Zero without speaking.

Once, in another life, he'd been a Central City Tin Man. He'd done good work, important work. He'd even spent time on the Mystic Man's detail. He'd had a wife, and a son. He and his lovely Adora had tried to have more children, but she lost two after Jeb was born, and Cain made it a point to make sure they didn't risk any more. He loved his wife. She was a quiet, gentle soul, with a soft smile, warm hazel eyes, and straight honey colored hair. She brightened his life. She kept their little Central City apartment aglow with flowers and sweet laughter.

Then the Plague hit. No one knew the source of the sickness, but it immediately afflicted the very young, the very old, and the weak. The healers from the Temples struggled to find a treatment as people all over the Outer Zone started dying. Jeb was strong, a growing young man, just entering the Academy and eager to accept a commission in the Royal Guard when he finished. And Cain, physically fit from his work, never even thought about the sickness. Until one day when Adora coughed apologetically, her eyes going wide.

Before long, she could hardly walk, and Cain handed in his badge to stay home and take care of her. For months, Jeb brought them news of deaths, of failed treatments and despairing people. Every day, Adora grew a little weaker. Her honey hair turned dull and straw-like. Her eyes took on a glaze. She had difficulty breathing, and a harder time remembering things. Dark circles formed under her eyes, because she could not sleep for coughing.

Then at last, Jeb brought staggering news. The High Priestess of the Temple of Cybele was dead, but not before finding a cure. Queen Lavender herself, along with the new High Priestess, the Princess Royal Dorothigale, had sunk her magic into the fields of the Pappay, forcing the trees there to bloom out of season for a night and a day as the gentle Pappay runners and Temple acolytes plucked the petals of the blooms. These petals, stewed into a tea, could cure the sickness. The tea's steam eased the victim's breathing, and drinking the brew would heal the lungs.

Temple healing was traditionally paid for by offerings, but Cain had little left to give. They'd lived off their savings while Cain futilely nursed Adora. Still, he gathered his wife up, and carried her to the grand Temple located across from the Royal Compound. He'd collected what little platinum they had left, deeming utter poverty a minor cost for saving Adora.

In the temple they waited as patient after patient was taken into the temple to be treated. Then at last, a portly middle-aged priest, with thinning greasy black hair and a sneering expression, came up to Cain.

"Your offering?" he snapped.

Cain handed over the small pouch containing all the money he had left. The sneering priest weighed it in his hand contemptuously. Then he peered at Adora. He listened to her breathing, checked her temperature and her eyes. Then he scoffed.

"Too late!" he pronounced. "Her lungs are too scarred. The amount of blooms we'd have to use to save her could save three other people." And with that, he turned away, dismissing the former Tin Man and his dying wife.

Cain shook with fury. When he would have lunged after the priest and struck him, demanding Adora be treated, it was Adora herself who stopped him, clinging weakly to his sleeve.

"Take me home, Wyatt," she gasped, and grieving, Cain obeyed.

Adora died that very night, breathing her last in her own bed, while her husband held her hand and cried. In the darkness of that bleak night, Cain cursed the Goddess Cybele, the Twin Gods, the sneering priest, and all priests and priestesses. He cursed himself, the whole world, giving up on any and all Hope.

After Adora was buried outside the City walls, Cain sunk into a deep depression. For weeks, he never left the apartment. Jeb visited him often, afraid of this bleak despair. It was well that he did, for Cain only remembered to eat when his son forced him to. He never even considered why the landlord never threw him out. Jeb was paying the rent, having begged a loan from his commanding officer at the Academy.

Eventually, it was that commanding officer that affected some change. Morgan Zero remembered Cain from his own Academy days. The Commandant had been two years ahead of Cain, but the younger man had been something of a prodigy. When Jeb Cain entered the Academy, Zero took an interest in him. It had been something of a come down for the Guards when Cain had accepted a position with the Tin Men instead of the Guard. The Royal Guards were eager to get their hands on their own Cain, and Jeb was shaping up to be an even better leader of troops than his father. The elder Cain had always been something of a loner, competent but distant from his men.

So at first, Zero loaned young Jeb the money he requested without question. He suspected something innocuous, a girl, or a barroom brawl, nothing unusual for a young man with a great deal of energy. But when barely two months later, Jeb returned to his office, and stammeringly requested a second loan, Zero got suspicious. He sternly questioned the cadet, and soon Jeb shamefacedly explained his family situation.

Shocked, Zero asked Jeb to take him to visit Cain. His surprise only grew when Jeb let him into the dark apartment. The place held a musty odor, as if no windows had ever been opened. Dishes sat unwashed in the sink, a vase of dead flowers were slowly being consumed by mold.

Cain himself looked almost like a dead man reanimated. He'd grown thin and pale, his blue eyes dead and empty. He hardly looked up when Zero and Jeb entered the room. His hair and beard had grown out, and one could tell from ten feet that the man hadn't bathed in quite some time. Jeb flushed with humiliation, and a frustrated sort of angry love for his father. He clearly longed to help the man, but had no idea how.

But Zero had a good idea. Walking over to where Cain sat in a chair, staring at the wall, the Commandant kicked the former Tin Man lightly in the leg.

"Look at this," he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "Wyatt Cain. Pride of the Academy. Tin Man. Rising star of the unit. Future Chief of Tin Men for Central City. Look at you now."

Cain didn't even acknowledge his presence, just kept staring at a blank expanse of wall.

"I figured," announced Zero. "I figured it was all a fucking act. Couldn't keep it together, could you, mister tough guy? You went and snapped." The Commandant, in his starched green wool uniform coat, with yards of gold braid, leaned over to speak right in the apathetic man's ear. The brass buttons of the coat winked cruelly in the dim light. "You fucking fell apart. You goddamned coward."

There. Ice blue eyes flickered towards Zero for a moment.

"That's right. I'm calling you a coward, Wyatt Cain." Again, the eyes flickered, a sign of life. "You can't face the world anymore, can you? So all those years, you were hiding behind a woman! Pride of the force, propped up by a woman." Zero decided to go for broke, since he wasn't getting through fast enough. "I'll bet she was relieved to die. I'll be she was so glad to get away from you she didn't even tr-"

Zero admitted later he honestly never saw the fist coming. Cain lashed out, punching the Commandant in the jaw, a clean punch that snapped his teeth together and rocked him backwards. With a snarl, the elder Cain came out of the chair and took a second poke at the Guard, but Zero was ready this time. He blocked and punched Cain's stomach.

"Sure, sure, fight now! I say you're a damned coward, Wyatt Cain!" Cain tried to tackle him. Jeb cried out in horror, but Zero waved him back, dodging Cain's clumsy attack. "Look at yourself! You're a disgrace!" He got in a solid blow to Cain's kidneys, but not hard enough to cripple the man, just enough to anger him further. "Disgrace to the Academy! Disgrace to the unit! Disgrace to your wife! You turned your son into a debtor for your sake, did you know that? Boy's been borrowing money to keep your rent paid!" He gave Cain a blow to the jaw that rocked the man backwards. For a moment, the former Tin Man just leaned against the wall. For the first time, his eyes lit on Jeb, looking pale and aghast.

Zero straightened up from his defensive stance. "I know you kept your service revolver, Cain. Why don't you do us all a favor and blow your damned brains out? That would be better than this horseshit." He tugged his uniform coat back into place. Turning to leave, he paused by Jeb. Whispering intently, he said, "Look kid, either your old man's gonna kill himself tonight, or snap out of this. If he offs himself, I'll cover the funeral. If he comes out of it, bring him to my office tomorrow. I think I can find a place for him."

Zero left the apartment without a backwards glance.

The next day, he was frankly surprised to see a clean, shaven, straightened-out Wyatt Cain, wearing his revolver, enter his office. Zero never asked what happened after he left. Business between a man and his son, family business, has no place in the Academy or the Guards. But part of him was relieved that Cain could pull it together. Zero pulled a few strings, called in a favor, and three days later, at the Enlisted Men's Training Camp on the far side of Central Lake from the City, the recruits got a new trainer.

Officers in the Guards were chosen from Academy cadets. But the entire military of the Outer Zone was comprised of the Royal Guards, and large numbers of young men enlisted directly. They all went through a training camp for six months.

And after a very short time, all of them feared the trainer known as Killer Cain.

Officer Cain was extremely hard on his troops. He was cold, unfriendly, stern, unyielding, and demanded absolute perfection. He also refused to let any one of his men get by on 'Good Enough'. His men worked their asses off, and cursed him behind his back, but every one finished his training with the best possible record. Every one graduated training with High Merit. Every one burst with pride when Cain would nod the day before Graduation and say, "Well done." Field commanders thanked the gods for men trained by Killer Cain. The first few men turned out by Cain were promoted to non-commissioned officers faster than anyone in the history of the Royal Guard.

In two and a half years, the generals were discussing transferring Cain to the Academy. He was hard to work with, completely unorthodox, refused to wear a uniform, and took any challenges to his decisions with a cold blank expression that made the questioner backpedal hastily. But he produced the best-trained men in the Guards.

Then one day, the Queen's Protector came to the camp.

He was accompanied by Commandant Zero. Ambrose Fiyero had an assignment, he needed a guard, and he'd gone first to the Commandant of the Academy, thinking to train up a fresh young cadet. In an unexpected move, Zero recommended the elder Cain.

Not long after the Plague, weakened by illness and the amount of magic needed to cause the Pappay trees to bloom, Queen Lavender had abdicated the throne. Her heir, the Princess Azkadelia, took the crown, and moved forward with the restoration of a nation and a people devastated by so many deaths. As was custom, a personal guard and companion had been chosen for the Heir Apparent years before. When Queen Lavender stepped down and retired to the royal manor of Finacqua, her unorthodox Protector, the Slipper known as Ahamo, retired with her. Newly crowned Queen Azkadelia's Protector, Ambrose Fiyero, looked nothing like a soldier at all, except for wearing the green uniform. Yet those few privileged to know Ambrose and the Queen well knew that Ambrose was a man of many, and often hidden, talents.

He wore the archaic version of the guard's uniform, a longer coat, with even more braid than was common for officers. His green coat was velvet instead of wool, and the buttons were real gold, not brass. But his hair was a riotous mess of curls sticking out in every direction, and his face often bore a bright, slightly confused smile, as if he wasn't quite paying attention to you, but thinking about something else entirely. His entire person was meant to make an observer underestimate him. But Ambrose Fiyero was one of the few in the O.Z. who could kill a man with his bare hands. A distant scion of the Royal Family, he'd received training restricted only to those of the Royal House. He was also brilliant, and nine of the ten last major innovations in technology the O.Z. had seen had come from him.

Unfortunately, there were no other men of the Royal line of the correct age for the assignment Ambrose needed to fulfill right now, and he felt a man with training and experience would be necessary. When he also told Zero he probably needed a man of iron will, Zero recommended Cain.

They found Cain in the middle of a training exercise with a class close to Graduation. A mock up of an abandoned village was on the Camp's grounds, and in this exercise, the trainees were required to find and subdue Cain himself.

Without letting him "kill" them first.

When Zero and Ambrose reached the checkpoint, seven glum-faced trainees already sat in a row, red paint marking their fatigues. "We're dead already," one explained, ashamed.

"He's a demon," whispered another.

"How many in your group?" asked Ambrose, interested.

"Twelve total. Five are still alive." A fellow trainee nudged the speaker as another painted trainee came trudging from the village. "Make that four."

Zero and Ambrose waited until they saw a strange group come out of the village. Two sweaty, exhausted-looking trainees in fatigues were escorting a man in tan. Apparently they had his wrists tied behind him. Two more trainees, paint marked, followed the first trio.

For a second, the two escorts paused, surprised to see the officers. In that moment, the detainee twisted and dropped, pulling out of their grips. In an impossible move, he got his hands in front of him. As he did, he snatched a gun from one trainee, fired on the other, marking him with red paint, then spun and fired on the first.

"Damn it!" cried the trainee whose gun had been stolen.

"Never, EVER let your attention waver from your enemy. Yes, I'm probably the most dangerous enemy you'll face. If you can control ME, then I know you can control any other detainee," Cain lectured his downcast troop. "You'll do this exercise again tomorrow. You have tonight to think up new strategies. Dismissed." He held out his hands, and a trainee removed the bonds. The young men walked off as Cain rubbed his shoulder, watching them go. Then he turned to the officers. Zero looked surprised. Ambrose looked amused.

"Zero. Sir. What can I do for you?" Cain asked.

"How did you get your hands around front?" Ambrose asked eagerly.

Cain grimaced. "Shoulder pops in and out. From an old 'cycle accident. Normally I wouldn't do it, but those boys need to learn not to loose their focus. If they hadn't been distracted by you two, I'd've passed them on this exercise."

"Oh, surely you can let that go? They weren't expecting us," Ambrose said.

Cain's face turned steely. "Doesn't matter. They need to learn not to get distracted. Hell, next group, I might hire a couple of dancing girls to meet them out here."

Zero laughed, even though he suspected Cain was serious.

Ambrose turned to Zero, grinning. "He's perfect!"

"Perfect for what?" Cain asked suspiciously.

"A special assignment," Ambrose explained disingenuously. "Protection detail."

Cain spent the next two months learning hand to hand combat from Ambrose directly, sessions that were held at the Academy. He also worked with main Tin Man office, and the royal guard office, learning access passwords and the workings of both organizations. No one told him who his protectee would be. During several interviews early on in the process, he was asked questions from across the board. Was he religious? What vehicles was he checked out on? How would he describe his relationship with his son?

His non-committal answers to personal questions made Ambrose frown slightly, but the man never changed his mind about his selection of Cain for whatever this assignment was.

Finally, word came that the assignment was due to start. Ambrose would meet them at the location. So Commandant Zero and Cain got in a car, and started across the City.

They arrived at the rear of what seemed to be a large complex. Zero led Cain though an entryway flanked by Royal Guards. Cain followed quietly, making mental note of halls, doorways, possible exits. They passed by a large opening into a bustling kitchen. Then, moving further into the complex, Zero led Cain to a lift.

Up two floors, the halls were decorated. Cain's eyes narrowed as he recognized the ancient pictographic language. Even today, tourists could buy junk painted in the old symbols. These halls were covered, columns and columns of pictograms around large pictures of figures. Some figures were human, but with the heads of animals. Others were normal. All were carved into the walls themselves and painted.

Finally, they left the hall for a large antechamber, where Ambrose awaited them, a large folder in his hands.

"Good timing," Ambrose said, glancing at a pair of large silver doors. "They're just about done."

Then the silver doors opened, and a group of people processed out of them, towards the three men. Leading the group was a young woman, dressed in a silver gown, her dark hair pulled up in an ornate headdress.

Cain's face remained expressionless, but inside, his entire being rebelled suddenly. If his suspicions were correct, he was about to be assigned as protection detail for the woman who represented everything that ever went wrong in his life.

The High Priestess of Cybele.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

2

The Princess Royal Dorothigale, also known as Her Grace the High Priestess of Cybele, never considered herself particularly privileged. Sure, her mother was the Dowager Queen Lavender, her sister the current Queen Azkadelia. But DG, as she was known to her family, never rested on her laurels. She felt that she'd earned her place as High Priestess, through hard work and insatiable curiosity, and she treasured that rank above that of Princess.

However, for family, she was all warmth and affection. So when she saw Ambrose waiting for her when the evening's moonrise ceremony had completed, she gave him a quick grin, before schooling her expression to one more appropriate for the two strangers he had with him.

"Protector, a delight to see you!" She extended her hand to Ambrose with a glint in her eye. Amused by her formality, Ambrose bowed over her hand.

"Your Grace. You remember Commandant Zero, of course."

"Of course. Commandant, always a pleasure." The Academy Commandant bowed politely.

"And this, Your Grace, is Officer Wyatt Cain."

DG's first reaction to the tall, well-built man in classic Tin Man clothes was a rush of lust. No stranger to physical pleasures, she instantly found the blond man terribly attractive. But then she met his eyes, and she sensed a blockade of emotions within him, overlaid with a thinly disguised hatred. For her?

Confused, she nodded politely. "Officer Cain."

His bow was curt, barely acceptable. "Your Highness."

DG blinked in surprise. People rarely used her Royal title instead of her religious one. She instantly wondered what his story was, why he harbored such hatred; unspecific hatred, her senses honed by magic told her. She was used to instant respect from outsiders. Officer Cain's chilly attitude piqued her curiosity.

"Perhaps we could adjourn to your study, Your Grace?" Ambrose suggested.

Suspicious, DG eyed him. "Is this about those stupid notes, Glitch?" The nickname slipped out inadvertently, causing Ambrose to wince slightly and Commandant Zero's lips to twitch in a suppressed smile. Young DG had dubbed Ambrose 'Glitch' as a child, for his tendency to loose track of a sentence in the middle of it, as a new idea occurred to him.

"It is indeed about the threats to your person, Your Grace." Ambrose's tone was slightly oppressive, and DG knew she'd pay for the slip later.

DG lead the way to the lift as her acolytes scattered behind her, duties done until moonset several hours from now. Only a few of her personal handmaids joined the Priestess and her visitors in the lift.

DG noticed Officer Cain's eyes darting to and fro as they walked. No doubt he was memorizing the layout. She wondered if perhaps he was a tiktok. His movements seemed mechanical, precise. His expression remained blank as the lift brought them several stories up the Temple of the Moon to her private level. Only one level lay above, their most sacred chamber. DG's personal apartments took up most of this level, with only a few additional rooms for her handmaidens and ceremonial guards. Her study adjoined her bedroom, and excusing herself, she quickly shed the ceremonial garments of moonrise with the help of her maids, and rejoined the men in the front room.

Sitting, she waved a hand. "Alright, Ambrose. What's your plan?"

Ambrose cleared his throat. "As agreed, we're bringing Commandant Zero into our inner circle on this issue. Commandant, several weeks ago as you may have heard, there were a number of unprecedented attacks on some of the smaller outlying Temples of the Moon. What's less known is that these attacks were accompanied by notes. Notes containing threats against Her Grace."

Zero blinked in surprise, as Cain suddenly spoke. "We're raising his security clearance? Sir?"

Ambrose nodded. "General Lonot and Chief Johnson are already aware of the threats. They're both investigating, a two pronged approach. I wanted the Commandant as well. More heads are better than fewer."

"More heads increase the possibility of a leak," Cain contradicted, adding a barely respectful "Sir" on the end.

Ambrose shot Cain a confused frown, concerned about the man's suddenly disrespectful attitude. He'd cleared all the psychological tests with flying colors, but this new attitude concerned Ambrose.

"If Ambrose trusts him, I do." DG declared, ending the dispute. "Go on," she prompted.

"It was decided by Her Majesty the Queen that Her Grace should have … personal protection for the duration of this threat."

DG's eyes widened. She had not been aware of this decision. Immediately she protested. "Glitch! That's hardly necessary! I almost never leave the Temple compound."

"Deeg," Ambrose sighed. "You leave like every other day! Then during moon-dark, you're zipping off to Finacqua on that infernal machine –"

"Which you invented!" she interrupted.

"-- or sneaking off into the countryside to paint or make daisy chains or something equally mad. You're utterly self-confident, which means you never pay attention to any possible danger. You practically gave your mother gray hairs!"

Zero gaped to see the High Priestess and the Queen's Protector bickering like siblings. Cain's eyes only narrowed.

"But… a PROTECTOR?"

Realizing DG's distress, Ambrose corrected her quickly. "A personal bodyguard. Just for the duration. Until we find out where the threat comes from and neutralize it."

DG frowned at the distinction. A Protector was more than just a bodyguard. He was a Royal Gale woman's closest companion, frequently not only a bodyguard and confidant, but her lover as well. DG's and Azkadelia's father was Queen Lavender's Protector, Ahamo. Part of how Ahamo became trained to be a Protector was because Lavender loved him so much, she wouldn't accept anyone else. Someday, DG had expected to meet some man, someone suitable, who could be trained up in the secret techniques and set as her Protector, someone she could love as her mother loved her father, as her sister loved Ambrose. To be outright assigned some stranger made her extremely nervous, and self-conscious. She glanced at the Tin Man. Officer Cain was obviously an intimidating man, and no doubt a crack shot. All Tin Men were. With the additional skills of a Protector, he was absolutely the best bodyguard the Zone could produce.

The fact that he seemed to hate everything about her made her cringe to think of this man remaining in her presence day in and day out for an uncertain amount of time.

"Ambrose. A private word?" Rising, she led him into the bedroom. Shutting the door firmly on the others, she whirled on him. "What in the Zone are you thinking?!"

Ambrose blinked at her vehemence. "What do you mean? You need a bodyguard, dollface."

"He hates me!"

"Oh come now. You can't possibly know that."

"Oh yes I can! Can't you feel it? He loathes this place. How can I trust a bodyguard that hates me, hates the Temple?"

Ambrose began to frown, starting to take her seriously. "He cleared every psych exam. He had perfect indifference to distinctions of religion. He showed an extremely strong propensity for duty."

DG shuddered. "My skin crawls with it, Glitch. He doesn't want to be here."

"Well, I've been training him for two months, Deeg. There's no-one else right now. I can start looking for someone new, but that takes time away from the investigation itself."

DG sighed. It was more important that they find out who was behind the attacks on the Temples and the threats than it was to find her another bodyguard, not when this one was so perfectly suited for the job, apparently. "Alright. How's this? I'll put up with him, but YOU have to fix this problem _as soon as possible_ so that I don't have to put up with him for long."

"It's a deal, doll." He held out his arms, and DG willingly hugged him. Ambrose was like a big brother to her, and she trusted his judgment implicitly. Despite her misgivings about Officer Wyatt Cain.

"I don't suppose he's a tiktok we could ask Father Vue to adjust?"

Ambrose chuckled. "Sorry. He's a widower with a son just out of the Academy."

DG thought about that. Perhaps she had seen a ring on his finger. "Well, at least that means this'll remain utterly professional."

"That's my girl. He doesn't know anything about the true role of a Protector. As far as he knows, he's just here as a bodyguard." He patted her shoulder as she sighed petulantly again. "See, now you're just being bratty."

"Isn't that what I do best?" She grinned up at him.

"Try not to drive him as crazy as the rest of us, ok?"

DG agreed, but privately, she thought that Officer Cain might benefit from a little craziness.

They rejoined the two men in the study. "Well!" Ambrose clapped his hands happily. He retrieved his folder, turning it over to Cain. "That's your assignment, Officer Cain. Simply keep Her Grace alive while we find out who's behind the threats. Additional information is in there. Commandant Zero, if you'll come with me, I can start briefing you on the investigation so far."

DG politely saw the two to the door. Then she turned to meet the steely gaze of Officer Cain.

"Well, alone at last," she said cheerfully, but he ignored her attempt at humor. "As I have never had a Pr—bodyguard before, I suppose you'll have to explain to me what to expect."

With a brief nod, Cain spoke. "I should be in whatever room you occupy at all times."

"My bedroom even? Please tell me you don't need to be in the bath with me!"

"Depends on the layout," he answered calmly.

DG waved her hands, shooing him towards her room. "By all means, assess away!" He nodded and moved into her bedroom. She followed.

Cain took a good look around, even examining the ceiling, twenty feet up. Three additional doors led from her chambers, one to the hall, one to her dressing room, and one to her bath. He checked each.

"The second door in the closet has no lock," he observed.

"Of course not, that's the handmaids' entrance."

"That door and the one to the hall need to be sealed. Those windows, do they open?" He indicated the windows that lined three walls, high up, against the ceiling.

"Yes, there's a mechanism, over there."

"They'll need to be locked. I'll have to test the glass too, make sure it doesn't break easily." He frowned. "The best thing would be if I remained in the room with you, but if we block off the other entrances, then a cot in the study would be fine for me."

"Mr. Cain, I will not be imprisoned in my own chambers! Surely one of the guard rooms down the hall would suffice for you?"

He shook his head. "Highness, until I can have a background check run on every member of this temple, we don't trust anybody."

"Every member! But the Temple is open to the public, always."

"Not anymore."

DG gasped, horrified. "No. Absolutely not! I will not close off this Temple, undoing decades of building trust with the people, years of work to promote understanding of what we do!"

"Highness," Cain ground out, clearly loosing his patience, "if you want to stay alive, then there have to be some changes. I have no doubt that the contents of this folder are going to include copies of the threats made against you. If they're dire enough that a standard Tin Man protection detail was deemed insufficient, then you're going to have to live with whatever changes I see fit to make in order to _keep you alive._"

Furious, DG announced in her most haughty voice, "Officer Cain, you forget your place."

"No I do not, Highness. I was selected to protect you, and I will do it."

Fury crackled between the two combatants. It was only the knowledge that Ambrose and her sister Azkadelia would only do this to her if they were utterly terrified for her safety that made DG relent.

"Get out," she ordered him, needing time to compose herself.

To her shock, he shook his head. "No, Your Highness. Until those doors are bolted, I stay in the same room you do."

Barely restraining herself from either shrieking or shocking him with her magic, she snapped, "Well, did you deem the bathroom sufficiently secure?"

Thrown by the question, Cain nodded. "I did."

"FINE!" DG spun on her heel, and took some satisfaction from slamming the bathroom door behind her.

TBC

_As always, Johnson is played by Sam Elliot._


	4. Chapter 4

3.

"_DG?"_ The soft call rang in the still air of the dark bathroom. _"Deeg? Are you there?"_

With a sigh, DG uncurled herself from the dry bottom of her tub and sat at the vanity. She reached out and gently touched the mirror, activating it. The silvered glass ceased to reflect her own face, and instead displayed the concerned visage of her older sister. The spell, an ancient connection between Gale women, allowed the sisters to communicate with each other, or their mother, through any reflective surface. "I'm here, Az."

"_I wanted to check. Ambrose said you weren't too happy." _Azkadelia glanced at the room she could see behind DG. _"Are you…. Pouting in the bathroom?"_

DG scowled. "He wouldn't leave. It's apparently the only place where I'll find any privacy until this mess is over. You wanna fill me in on this now?"

Az hung her head slightly. _"It's the Eclipse, Deeg. The threats and the stirrings we're hearing are all Anti-Dark. Someone is rabble rousing in the countryside, convincing people that you're going to do something to banish the suns or some such nonsense, during the Eclipse."_

"You have got to be kidding! The people of the Zone should understand by now that the Dark doesn't automatically mean evil." DG groaned with frustration. "Maat worked for that understanding, Serene before her worked for it! I work for it! It's been the policy of the Temple for two centuries to be transparent!"

"_I know Deeg, but these people are stirring up trouble. And we don't know who it is or why they're doing it. All we know is that they're out to destroy the Temple, every part of it, and they've threatened to…"_

"Utterly destroy me and the 'evil' I serve?" DG finished.

"_Something like that."_

"Spectacular."

Az rolled her eyes. _"Sarcasm does not become you."_

"Oh yes it does." DG leaned forward and thumped her head against the vanity surface a few times.

"_Stop that. We'll figure this out. Ambrose has the best people working on it."_

"Well, tell him I said to figure it out soon, alright?" Despair colored her voice.

"_Deeg, honey? What is it?"_

DG looked up to meet Az's worried gaze. "Oh nothing, only that I'm now forced to live day in and day out with a man who hates me." Even though part of her understood this to be a temporary arrangement, the romantic expectations she'd had growing up of what her Protector would be like were shattering in her head, like glass birds tossed off a balcony, unable to fly.

* * *

When the Princess – he refused to think of her as Priestess – shut herself in the bathroom out of pique, Cain felt perfectly justified in his disdain of her. She obviously had no sense of self-preservation. No doubt she felt that her pleasures and the continued catering to her every wish by the Temple staff superseded any inconveniences. Royal _and_ high ranking clergy, he expected Princess Dorothigale to be spoiled rotten, and he saw no reason to adjust that opinion yet.

But as long as she was going to stay put and pout, he'd take advantage of the time. He quickly circumnavigated the room, memorizing the layout, the number of steps it took to reach the bed from the door, the bathroom or enormous closet. He checked the mechanism that controlled the windows, satisfied to find a locking setting which he immediately switched on. He stood at the foot of the bed and checked the lines of sight, picking the best place to set a cot, both within the bedroom before the other doors were bolted, and once he could be situated in the study.

Then he sat and worked his way through the packet of information provided by Ambrose.

Inside, part of him seethed at what he perceived as a bait and switch on this assignment. If he'd been told outright that the assignment involved the Temple of the Moon, any member of the clergy of the Goddess Cybele, he'd have refused. But of course, strategically, he understood that had he refused, he'd have found himself in the furthest, most inhospitable reaches of the Zone, probably patrolling from snow-bank to snow-bank. Instead, Ambrose Fiyero had cleverly pushed and prodded Cain's long dormant sense of duty and honor back to life, grooming him to become the ultimate bodyguard, before targeting that focus on the Princess.

Slowly, he started to pay attention to the brief in front of him. The threats were… disturbing. They promised not simple death for the Princess, but a horrible, degrading, tortured death, described in almost gleeful detail. There were also a few badly written pamphlets, detailing the evil of the worshippers of Cybele. The author told his readers that the Plague had been only the opening salvo by the evil Cybele worshippers, Dark Witches of the worst sort. It claimed they only cured the Plague when it got out of control and began to threaten their own people. It accused the Princess of being the mastermind behind the Plague, claiming even the cure was a ploy to weaken Queen Lavender, in order to maneuver the less experienced Azkadelia onto the throne, whom Princess Dorothigale would undoubtedly overthrow shortly.

Cain's fists tightened around the pages as memories of his wife's suffering came back to him. The pamphlet made a sick sort of sense, and his grief urged him to accept the accusations, agree with them, while his honor, bolstered by Ambrose's training, dismissed them.

The cheap pages urged the people of the Zone to rise up and destroy the Temples of Cybele, with vague dire warnings of worse disasters yet to come if they did not. It pointed equally at Princess Dorothigale, the clergy of Cybele, and even those people who attended Moon services regularly. It advised 'good, Light-loving citizens' to look with suspicion on their neighbors who went too often to the Temple of the Moon – never specifying what qualified as too-often – and be wary of their secret plans.

All in all, the pamphlets did a great deal to promote paranoia against the worship of Cybele. For most of his life, Cain didn't much think about religion. Like the vast majority of the Zone, he attended festival services at the Temple of the Twins, the worship of the two suns and the Light they represent. He'd occasionally attended the Moon services, at the Solstices, since Adora was fond of the music. It wasn't until the priest of the Moon has refused to treat Adora that he'd felt anything other than indifference. That hatred bubbled in him, fueled by the sick logic of the pamphlets, but then he set them aside, and breathed deeply, calming himself. His job was to protect the Princess, no matter what he might think of the situation personally. And as yet, she hadn't shown herself to be evil in any way.

Of course, if she did turn out to have nefarious plans……

Cain turned to the other information in the packet. So far, no one had been able to trace the source of the pamphlets. No one was claiming responsibility, though people were apparently reading them aloud in gatherings. The four satellite Moon temples that had been burned were clearly cases of arson, but no arrests had been made. Several clergy had died in the blazes.

Just then, he heard a noise behind him. He turned his head just enough to see Her Highness come breezing out of the bathroom, head held high.

"Ready for bed, Your Highness?" he asked calmly.

Her smirk threw him. "On the contrary, Officer Cain. I thought it best to be out here when my handmaids arrived. I wouldn't want you shooting them accidentally." Her haughtiness was apparently back.

"Handmaids?"

"Of course. They have to prepare me for the moon-set ceremony."

Involuntarily, Cain glanced up at the windows. To his point of view, it was full dark, very late. Almost all of Central City slept by this time. He could not see the moon through the high windows.

DG smirked again. "The Temple observes moon-rise and moon-set every day, Mr. Cain, except the three days each cycle of moon-dark. Then of course, on high-full-moon is the monthly observance that the public attends. Then there are the two Equinoxes and the two Solstices during the annual. I generally appear at all the services, catching a nap between, then sleeping after moon-set. Any business I need to see to is usually handled in the afternoons." All this was delivered calmly, clearly, as if she were briefing a visitor to the Temple.

Cain didn't like all the running around. He tried to formulate a protest, but just then he heard a noise from the enormous closet. He sprang to his feet, startling the Princess. Reaching out to drag her behind him, he drew his pistol to aim between the eyes of a terrified handmaid.

"No! That's Naymi, one of my handmaids. And Erynna is right behind her!" The Princess cried, forestalling any violence. "They're here to help me get ready for moon-set."

Cain relaxed, dropping the gun. The Princess rushed to salvage the situation.

"Ladies, Officer Cain here has been assigned as my bodyguard until the investigation into the destruction of the satellite Temples has been completed. I'm sorry if he scared you." Both women nodded, but kept a careful eye on the Tin Man. "We'll all have to get used to some changes, I think. Naymi, once we're done tonight, could you let Hank and Emily know I'm going to need to have a staff meeting tomorrow? Thank you, now let's get ready." She glanced over her shoulder at Cain. "Um, Mr. Cain? They're about to help me redress…. If you insist on watching, that's fine with me," she offered slyly. To her everlasting amazement, two spots of color appeared on Cain's cheeks, and she thought she saw his ears turn red. _Ah, that fair skin must be SUCH a curse,_ she thought gleefully, and vowed to try and make him blush at least five times a day. Shouldn't be hard, after all.

Cain promptly turned, shutting the door to the study, and rigidly stood before it, staring into the dark blue painted wood from less than a foot away. DG silently snickered at his back before shooing her handmaids to fetch her dress and accoutrements for the ceremony.

Cain heard the soft noises of cloth rustling and whispered conferences. When the Princess indicated she was decent, he turned to take in the transformation. Now garbed in deep blue, like a summer night sky, the Princess wore a diadem of silver and diamonds, sparkling like stars.

A sudden traitorous thought flitted through Cain's head, that the Princess was in fact quite beautiful. Just as quickly, he squashed the idea. A pretty face and pleasing form was meaningless.

He followed closely as she led him and the handmaids to the lift. Down several floors again to the ceremonial chamber, she paused and gave him an assessing look.

"You have to come in, I presume?" At his nod, she glanced into the chamber, and to his surprise, chewed on her bottom lip as she considered the situation. It was an oddly youthful thing to do, again proving she wasn't nearly as mature or as together as she tried to act. The insight bothered Cain for some reason. "Well, if it suits your requirements, you could stand directly to my left against the wall. You'd be no more than… maybe thirty feet away. No one who's not actually living in the Temple attends the moon-set service anyway."

He considered her for an extra moment. Whatever she thought about in that bathroom, she'd obviously decided to cooperate with him. "That should be fine. Can Naymi point me to the spot?"

The handmaid nodded quickly as the Princess shot him a small smile. She recognized his attempt to set her staffers at ease.

Several other clergy arrived, and with much murmuring and bowing, arranged themselves around the Princess. More and more members of the Temple were slipping into the chamber. Then, the Princess led off the procession, and he followed Naymi to the side wall, where he actually had a clear view of the Princess, and the front of the chamber.

Cain didn't listen to the ceremony. Much of it was performed in the Ancient's language anyway, a language almost no one in the Zone actually spoke anymore. Instead, he tuned out the chanting and focused on the Princess.

Since she was being so accommodating now, he felt a little bad for how harshly he'd behaved initially. His memories of Tin Man training came back to him. _Your protectee must trust you. You cannot protect someone who won't listen to you_. He'd trained under Chief Johnson when the man was head of the Mystic Man's detail. _If the protectee doesn't trust you implicitly, you can't do your job._ Cain had allowed his own anger and grief to sour the partnership with his protectee from the very first minute.

He surreptitiously scanned the crowd. Somewhere in this mass of people was the odious priest who'd taken the last of Cain's life savings and refused to treat Adora. He felt the anger surge again, but squashed it. He never knew the greasy priest's rank or name. And at any rate, he had no right to call the man to scratch. Clergy were generally inviolable.

After no more than twenty minutes, the ceremony ended. Cain slipped along the edges of the chamber, keeping a close eye on the Princess, and by the time she exited, he was within ten feet of her. Again, she surprised him by glancing about quickly, and giving him a brief nod when she located him. Perhaps she was about to take these threats seriously.

"Short," he observed as he accompanied her, and the ubiquitous handmaids, back to the lift.

"Always is. Folks want to get some sleep," she told him wryly.

He nodded, slightly unsettled by her casualness. He couldn't seem to get a lock on her personality. One minute she was all haughty royalty, just what he'd expect from a spoiled highborn noble. The next, she was making wry asides.

Back in her room, he discovered that a cot had been added. While her handmaids helped her change, he dragged it over to block the door to the hall. Then he went into the study and started pulling a large upright wingback chair into the bedroom.

She watched him, dismissing the maids. "Um, are you going to sleep in here?"

"Yes, but in this chair."

She tilted her head. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, Mr. Cain, but the COT is for sleeping in, not a chair."

He shot her a quelling look and said, "I'm not going to be sleeping much anyway, Princess. Not until those doors get bolted, and the windows get tested."

Her brows lifted to her hairline. "Well, if you say so." She went about the room, turning off lamps as he settled into the chair. Finally, she climbed into the massive bed. He situated himself to have an equal line of sight to the study door and the closet.

Just as he started to settle in, he heard a whispering from the bed behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a soft silver glow over the bed.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, somewhat harshly, as the glow of magic was an unpleasant shock. At his voice, the whispering stopped and the glow disappeared.

The Princess huffed in exasperation. "It's a cantrip against insomnia, Mr. Cain. I was _trying_ to make sure I got some sleep tonight."

"I'm not going to be noisy, Your Highness."

He heard the bed creak as the Princess must have propped herself up on her elbows to glare at him in the darkness. "If you think this room isn't warded by my own magic, Mr. Cain, you're an idiot, and I'll have to insist Ambrose find me a smarter bodyguard. I can feel your presence as if you were here in the bed next to me!"

A slightly shocked and embarrassed silence filled the room. Cain felt silly for discounting the protective aspect of her magic. And he figured she felt pretty silly over her analogy. As if he'd be in the bed next to her, for goodness's sake.

"Now if you don't mind," she said, and her subdued tone confirmed her embarrassment, "I'd like to finish the cantrip and get some sleep."

"Of course, your Highness," he muttered, and her whispers floated on the dark air again. The glow shimmered over the bed, but after a moment it sunk down into her, and he could hear her deep and even breathing.

TBC

_*AN: Why yes, her handmaids are named after Certain Fandom Friends. :-)_


End file.
